


If Only For Tonight

by retsehcniwnaed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Stanford Era, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retsehcniwnaed/pseuds/retsehcniwnaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's leaving tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only For Tonight

Dean glared at his bedroom door as it was being pushed open. He'd gone to bed four hours ago, and it was just like Dad to wake him up for sparring or target practice at fucking five thirty. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, though. He hadn't expected to.

"Hey." He relaxed when it was Sam's voice he heard, and his pajama-clad little brother padded into his room. Not clad, so much as half-dressed. He was wearing green flannel pants and nothing else.

"Hey." Came Dean's reply. His voice low, and strained, like he'd either spent the last four hours sleeping or crying. He hadn't done either of those things, but he wished he'd done at least one, instead of staring angrily at his ceiling all night.

Sam closed the door behind him. That was weird, actually. Sam shutting the door when he came in. Normally he'd come in, say something, and walk right back out. Tonight, the way he was eyeing the bed, it seemed like he intended to stay.

He brought a glass of water to his lips, drinking nervously. For as long as Dean could remember, Sam would get up about this time and get a glass of water. Every night. Dean would hear him clinking glasses, run the faucet, and go back to his room.

To fill the silence, Dean sat up on his elbows, "Since when don't you knock?" Sam frowned, looking down at Dean's chest, where he still wore the grey tee and plaid overshirt from the day before, "Since when do you sleep fully clothed?"

"Since my brother decided to ditch me. Your turn."

"Dean, I--"

"No, Sammy. I get it. You're gonna go make a life for yourself. A life away from monsters, away from dad..." The 'away from me,' went unspoken, but the look of guilt that crossed Sam's face made him think he'd heard it anyway.

Dean was upset, but he had no right to be, which just upset him more. Dean had pushed Sam in school to do his best, to wow his teachers, to focus on his future. It was Dean who had suggested he would make a great lawyer because of his fantastic pokerface. Dean had helped him with the applications. Dean had pretended to be John when the dean had called. And up until last night, Dean had been happy for him.

Sam was teetering on the balls of his feet, still staring at Dean's bed, and Dean couldn't believe it. That was the exact facial expression, the exact stance, Sam wore when he was little and was too embarrassed to ask Dean to sleep with him. Dean's mouth quirked a little in reminiscence, and he patted the bed beside him. "Wanna sleep with me tonight, Sammy?"

Not that 'tonight' was all that much longer. Sam's alarm was set for seven, and the charter bus leaves at eight. Dean's breath hitched as Sam grinned, crossing the room and climbing into the bed.

Sam was a mess of legs and arms and sheets when he was trying to get comfortable, and it drove Dean crazy. He would punch and kick and tangle the covers and he was really glad Dad had started getting them seperate rooms when Dean hit puberty or he'd have never gotten any sleep.

"Good now?" Dean asked him as Sam finally settled down. Instead of answering, Sam seemed to be...contemplating. Before Dean could ask him what was up, Sam answered, "No," and pressed Dean into the pillows with one hand before curling his arm around him, pressing himself to Dean's side.

Dean's breath caught in his throat as Sam wriggled against him, laying his cheek on Dean's shoulder. "Is this...okay?" Sam asked him, licking his lips nervously. Dean was too dumbstruck to come up with a sarcastic retort, so he just wrestled his arm from between their bodies and wrapped it around Sam.

A few minutes in, Sam was acting uncomfortable, moving his cheek around Dean's shoulder and chest, grunting anytime he moved. Dean sighed, "What is it, Sammy?"

"Your shirt is itchy."

"Itchy? It's cotton."

"Well, it's uncomfortable."

Dean blinked slowly, looking down at the blushing mop of hair on his chest. "You want me to take it off?" There was a small, nearly inaudible gasp, and then Sam was nodding his head.

Dean's face and chest were warm, and suddenly the weight of Sam's knee on his thigh felt dangerously close to his cock, which was much more interested than it should be, but it always had been when it came to his brother. That's another reason he was thankful for the seperate rooms.

"Okay," he sat up, and Sam rolled away from him long enough for Dean to shrug out of one shirt and peel off the other. When his chest was bare, he laid down onto his back, and Sam cuddled right back up against him, laying his hand over Dean's heart.

"This okay?" Sam asked nervously. Dean laid his hans over his brother's. "Yeah. It's okay."

Dean closes his eyes, tiredness finally beginning to fold around him when he felt a slight tickle on his chest. Furrowing his brows, he focused on the sensation and realized belatedly that Sam was lightly tracing small patterns on Dean's pectoral. Dean purred, dropping his hand to his side so Sam's had more room to move, "Mmm...feels good, Sam."

Sam got bolder, dragging his fingertips down, circling Dean's nipple, and Dean's eyes snapped open, looking at Sam. Sam blushed and jerked his hand back, resting his fist in front of his mouth. Dean blinked, "Why'd you stop?"

They had one night left together. One. And if Sam was going to make it easier for Dean to pretend his feelings were mutual, he was going to take full advantage. Watching Dean's face for ny negative reaction, Sam returnes his hand to where it had been, and even grazed his nails over Dean's ribs. Dean's stomach muscles jumped. "This okay?"

Dean didn't trust his voice to answer, so he just nodded.

Sam dragged his fingers over Dean's chest for what felt like hours. Every once in a while, Sam would come dangerously close to grazing his nipple, and Dean would tense up in anticipation. After a little while, Sam stopped, and Dean hadn't realized his eyes had fallen shut until he had to force them open to look at Sam.

Sam's and was frozen over Dean's sternum, eyes staring Dean's abdomen. Dean followed his gaze, and his heart sank.

Sam wasn't looking at his stomach, he was looking at the bulge in his jeans.

"Shit, Sam," he moved to sit up, but Sam's hand was suddenly firm, pressing Dean into the mattress. "I knew it." He whispered, his hand suddenly hot against Dean's skin, suddenly forceful, suddenly strong.

"Sam, I can explain,"

"I knew it wasn't just me."

Dean went silent, watching Sam's hand as it continued it's torturous circuit around Dean's chest. "For years I thought it was just me. Having to turn my head when you changed clothes, or watch you lick salt off your fingers. I'd get so mad when you'd come back to the motel real late, reeking of sex and--"

"Now?" Lightning fast, Dean grabbed Sam's wrist and held it still, glaring angrily at the ceiling. "You're leaving in less than two hours, and you tell me this now?" 

"Dean, you're hurting me."

"Yeah? Ditto."

Dean threw Sam's hand off of him, away from him. He thought he'd wanted to pretend Sam wanted him, just for one night, even though that would make tomorrow so much more painful. But this...finding out Sam really did want him...that was excruciating.

"Dean, please..." Sam begged him, trying to clutch Dean harder to him. That's when Dean felt the hardness digging into his hips, and against his will, his jeans got even tighter.

"Fuck, Sammy..." He didn't sound angry...just, broken.

Sam took that as his cue, and wordlessly dragged his hand down to the button on Dean's fly. In record time, he had Dean's pants unfastened, and even Dean was impressed. Even he couldn't do that with one hand.

"Been wanting to do this for a long time," Sam told him, teasing the waistband of Dean's boxers with his fingertips. "I can't believe this..." Sam sounded like he was about to score with the hottest chick in school, or Jessica Alba, but not Dean. Sam should never look that excited because Dean wanted him. Sam should never look that excited over anything concerning Dean.

Unless it involved leaving him.

The thought brought Dean to life. Rolling so that he could nudge his way between Sam's legs with Sam.underneath him, his pressed his cock right into the cleft of Sam's hip, and took satisfaction in the way Sam mewled and pawed at his shoulders. Christ, he was so beautiful like this. Blood pooled to his lips in anticipation and excitement, a flush coloring his neck and chest. His hazel.eyes, normally so light and playful, now nearly swallowed up with pupil. Dean hovered over him, unsure of what to do."

"Move." Sam told him, voice wrecked, and eyes half-lidded.

Dean did.

They rocked that way for some time, Sam scrabbling for purchase at Dean's arms or chest or bed, creating a rhythm that left them both breathless. When Sam tugged at Dean's jeans, he didn't protest, only moved around so Sam could pull them off more easily.

Dean moved to pull Sam's pajamas off, and was met with nothing but skin, and the waistband stopped right above the base of his cock. "Sammy," he breathed, "You're not wearing any..." Sam grinned, "I remember you saying how it was hot when a girl didn't wear underwear and...I haven't worn them since."  
Dean's mouth went dry. That conversation was over a year ago.

He pulled Sam's pants off of him quickly, his cock springing free, and a dribble of precome pooled on the head. Before he even knew what he was doing, he had bent forward to lick it clean.

The noise thay erupted out of Sam was unlike any he had ever heard before. He looked up at Sam's face, and he was so completely blissed out, he looked almost unconscious. Dean returned his mouth to Sam's cock, licking the sensitive tip, tongueing the slit, Sam's moans and mewls driving him on.

He circled his fingers around the base of Sam's cock and finally wrapped his lips around he head, sinking down over his shaft. He couldn't take all of Sam in his mouth, but what little bit he could seemed to be enough for Sam.

"Ah, fuck, Dean! So good, so, ah...." He bit out between harsh, ragged breaths. Sam tasted like...jesus, was that his body wash? Sam always complained about the evergreen smell of Dean's favorite soap, always preferring the non-scented kind, but here he was wearing it. Those sweats he wore, used to be Dean's too. Sam was covering himself in Dean, and Dean was covering Sam with more.

Saliva was matting the thick hair at the base of Sam's cock, and Dean's lips shined with it. He ground his hips into the sheets trying to acheive some kind.of friction. "Dean..." Sam groaned, his fingers fisting in Dean's hair. Dean hummed in approval, trying to train his throat to take more of Sam.

"Dean st-st-stooop."

Dean didn't.

"D-Dean please."

Dean wouldn't."

"Dean!" Sam grabbed Dean by the hair and pulled, and Dean's lips came away from Sam's cock with a loud pop. "Dean, want you inside me."

Dean almost came right there.

"Sammy, I don't have any lube. Or condoms. We--"

"I don't care. I need you, Dean."

"Sam--"

"Please."

The process was long, and difficult. Refusing to even attempt to go in dry, Dean removed his boxers and slathered himself with enough spit to fill a small pond, and even then Sam surprised him by pushing Dean onto his back and straddling his chest, falling forward to take Dean's cock into his mouth.

Though he was seeing stars, while Sam suckled him, Dean concentrated on Sam's hole, spitting onto it and teasing the rim with his finger. He had gotten to the hilt of two fingers when he felt like he was going to come. He tossed Sam off of him, slotting himself between his legs. This time, without the barrier of clothing between them.

It took less than ten minutes to finally bury himself fully into Sam's ass. For the pained lines in Sam's face to finally fall away into smooth planes of pleasure. Dean rocked inside of him, and Sam rocked against him, and they found a new rhythm, one that was going to keep themselves conjoined for a long time.

When Sam reached forward and kissed Dean, he was only shocked for a half a second before he was kissing back. "Fuck, baby boy. Love you so much," Dean whispered, and Sam's mouth went still against Dean's, his blunt nails dug into Dean's biceps and he arched his back. "Dean, Dean, Dean, DEAN, DEAN!" He cried out, painting his stomach with long, white striped that smear between their bodies as Dean quickens his pace, panting against Sam's slack mouth.

"Ah, Sammy!" Dean grunts before he's spilling into Sam, filling him. He colllapses against Sam, chest rising and falling with is breaths.

They don't bother cleaning up. They just hold each other until Dean eventually falls asleep.

When Dean wakes up, the sun is high in the sky, and he's alone in bed. He sits up quickly, head spinning and eyes swimming with tears. His stomach is clean. There's no wet spot on the bed it's 11:30, which means Sam is gone. Probably halfway to Stanford. The only thing proving to him that last night really happened is a tall, half-empty glass.of water on his night stand.


End file.
